


Reflections in a Hot Spring

by kupfermaske, LordNesquik



Series: Ori Works [6]
Category: Ori and the Blind Forest
Genre: Gen, Hot Springs & Onsen, One Shot, Original Character(s), Post-Reflections, Self-Reflection, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24641206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kupfermaske/pseuds/kupfermaske, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordNesquik/pseuds/LordNesquik
Summary: Tags say all.Experimental thing for two people trying to collab for the first time.
Series: Ori Works [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057112
Comments: 18
Kudos: 13





	Reflections in a Hot Spring

_The Pools become a popular destination in winter._ As the world shifts over to the season of shortening days, a geothermal phenomenon unique to the place is the sole thing that keeps it colourful all year round. The ground absorbs the sun’s heat as the year progresses and somehow releases it in winter in the form of steam jets and hot springs, which would interest the academic in trying to ascertain as to why this happens. 

But for the most part, the siren song for a warm bath whilst surrounded by snow-dusted, pink-coloured trees is near-irresistible. And two in particular were, indeed, drawn to it. They couldn’t be blamed. 

Yet they had to find a compromise in doing so, which can be difficult if one wishes for solitude in a prime tourist trap. Thankfully, though, the Forest is kind. There is always something for someone.

Drawn together by penchants for silence, the only things that separate them are the ripples of the warm water around them, the perfumed oil that soothes their dry, cold fur and two Moki currently scrubbing each others’ backs. Fragrant steam lazily wafts from this little spring, clouding the quiet air.

The arrangement is strangely recollective. Two people sit across from each other like two islands in a sea. And fittingly, each came from a different land; different times.

And the more these two islands stare at each other, occasionally tilting their heads, the sense of something greater than gravity pulls them together. A mutually familiar sense of thoughtful conversation grows in the air. It grows unbearable to remain silent.

But what is behind this force that connects them?

"Is this your usual spot?" Shumi lightly asks. "I apologise if I'm intruding."

The two Moki between them, now scrubbing their arms, turn to the feline-looking creature across from her, who in turn looks at them. For a moment, he inspects their expressions, before finding his resolution and turning to face the spirit.

“I suppose so,” he responds carefully. “Though, ‘usual’ is a strong word. This is my first winter here.”

"Your first," Shumi echoes across from him, nodding politely. "And I don't remember seeing you any winters before that. Recent arrival? One, two months?"

“Something like that, though I’ve never been sure. We counted by seasons in Nibel. Converts poorly.”

Shumi turns her head, but only just. Only one most observant would have noticed. She feels that this feline-looking one did, indeed, notice.

She says, "It's a new system Gumo is trying out. It's surprisingly efficient. You know him?"

He nods. “He’s who I have to thank for reaching Niwen.”

"In that case, I can pass your thanks to my Dad. Unless you want to personally thank him?" Shumi smiles. He matches the expression, nodding slowly.

“I already have, likely more than he appreciated.”

The corner of Shumi's smile then curls even further into a knowing smirk, followed by another nod. An acknowledgement of the Gumon's behaviour; machine smart, not people smart.

She then reaches for a small, hidden bottle behind her. A tentative sniff is given before its fragrant contents are tipped into the steaming water. The two Moki present then sigh in utter bliss ... then promptly fall asleep, one on top of the other.

Fickleweed essence. The equivalent of catnip to a feline, except that it's for Moki and it doesn't alter their state of minds. It just knocks them out for a while. Pretty harmless, most of the time.

"Now it's just the two of us," Shumi says, returning the bottle. "And don't mind them. They just won't remember anything that is discussed in the next hour or so. Slightly overkill, but …" She shrugs, trailing off.

“That is an … intimidating substance to carry around,” the feline says, sitting up in the spring. He leans away, alert. His back is flat against the warm, porous rock wall.

Shumi's expression doesn't change. She had expected this. She then looks down, swaying her hooved legs around. Her reflection on the shaking surface; her face, her burning flame and all, looks back at her. Snow continues to fall around them. Some evaporate upon coming to close to her flame.

"I have a memory of you, passed on to me by Ori," Shumi slowly explains whilst still averting her gaze; an unspoken apology. 

She continues, "And asides from Gumo, Naru and Ku … you're the only one who's really met him. I just wanna know what he was like. And the two over there were potential eavesdroppers to things that should remain between ones like us. Ones that _know_."

“About Ori, you mean?” Iris prompts, looking pensively at the snoring Moki. “ ... surely, there must’ve been a more … polite way to garner privacy.”

Shumi raises both hands from the water in defeat, her dormouse ears drooping likewise. "Look, we got off on the wrong foot. I'm a 'do first, think later' kinda sort. Can we please start over? 

"I also promise that this isn't a habit. And if it makes you feel better, they're just sleeping. They really just look like that when exposed to fickleweed."  
  
Iris sighs curtly, keeping his eye on Shumi. “I’m unfamiliar with the fauna here, then. What is it you wanted to ask?”

Shumi lowers her hands, sinking them once more. She keeps her head and ears drooped. Her tail curls slowly in the water.

"Since we're starting over, I think names are called for," she tentatively begins, raising her eyes to level with Iris'. 

"Shumi. Grand Firstborn or something like that. And you are?"  
“I am Iris. Merely some creature from underneath Nibel.”

"Iris," Shumi repeats, attempting another smile. "Nice name."  
A polite nod. “Thank you.”

Tense, equal footing is better than tense, downward footing. Down to brass tacks. 

"So how did you meet Ori? Did he save you from some terrible, Blinded place?" Shumi asks, sitting up straight again.  
“Ori did save me -- carried my body to a spirit well -- though not so much from the Blindness. My home was a haven compared to the Decay’s wrath topside.”

"Underground, you said?" Shumi remembers, pouting her lip. "Hm. Imagine how many could've been saved if they did what you did."  
  
Iris shrugs. “Where I lived was known to very few, and it wasn’t a shelter I had taken from the Decay, but rather my home from birth. And it still had some corruption, and finding food took much effort and sheer adaptation.”

Shumi pauses for a bit. A lot of questions can be asked here. She reminds herself to stick to her original plan.

"So he went underground?" she asks, slightly tilting her head again. "I don't remember there being something important he had to fix underground, like an Element, or a Torch."  
“There wasn’t,” Iris agrees. “I don’t believe he meant to be down there. From the best timeline I can come up with, he would’ve been travelling through Black Root Burrows when he fell into the Maze.”

"Nana's old home," Shumi notes, connecting the two dots. "And there was a whole 'nother place below _that?_ Must've been lonely. Though I guess you prefer it."  
  
“I did. I knew there was something above it, but familiarity and fear of the unknown kept me underground. That’s what Ori really saved me from.”

Shumi then leans back. She rests her head and looks up the snowing sky, raising a hand and catching some. They melt once they touch her, not even leaving a fleeting chill.

"And that's what he did, and he brought you to the well in the end, but … what was he like?"

There is certain nervousness in her voice. As if she is hesitant to know.

She continues, "Was he fearless? Was he wise? Was he, as some of the Moki say, very cool?"  
Iris thoughtfully taps his paw against the damp surface outside the pool.

“Ori was an inevitability, created by the will of Seir for the sole purpose of restoring light to Niwen. It only makes sense that someone whose only meaning was to save a land would leave a good impression.”

Shumi absorbs those words. She compares herself to Ori, though in a different way this time.

_Ori was an inevitability._ A product of design by someone higher than them.

Shumi, however, isn't like that. She was a product of extraordinary chance, though her existence was guaranteed should that tiny chance ever happen. 

And even then, her kind already had a purpose. _She_ had a purpose, which was to protect the land from any possible resurgences of Decay.

Ori was the cure, but she was the insurance measure for his efforts.

"It's funny, you know," Shumi says after a while has passed. "Even after 'death', his light still shines on, and yet … he casts a shadow big enough to swallow another Light Guardian, Grand Firstborn, whatever."

“What do you mean?” Iris asks, unusually quick. He tilts his head to the side with concern.

Shumi is quiet for another while. But she eventually answers. She knows the effects of keeping things that need saying unsaid. 

And she trusts Iris, for some reason. Perhaps it's the sentimentality of being connected by Ori. Or maybe she's desperate. Not much difference between the two, though.

"I just feel like I have to live up to his name," Shumi says, slowly. "I feel like that's what everyone expects of me. I mean, who doesn't look at the child of a hero and wonders if they'll do great things like their famed parent? Is Ori even my parent? In either case … ”

She then glances over towards the snoring, tongue-lolling Moki. Her ears droop again. "I feel like I have a long way to go."  
Iris’ eyes open wider as he gives a nod of sudden understanding. He sits silently for another moment, too. The scent of fickleweed hangs around them. “Ori’s status as a hero was based on equal parts circumstance, equal parts effort. He saved our world, but different to you -- not unlike you -- he was made when the world needed a hero. It’s impossible to live up to that, simply because there is nothing that needs saving right now.”

Iris pauses and glances at the sleeping Moki again before continuing.  
“ … besides, Ori didn’t just wave his paw. His tale is a series of heroic decisions, each made in quick succession. It started and ended with nothing more than choices.”

"Choices that saved two lands, you mean. The life-altering choices I make are what I'd like for dessert and whether or not to go out to the Pools for a warm bath," Shumi smirks wanly to herself, looking to the sky again.  
“Or, the choice to save Gumo rather than leaving him to a tragic fate. The choice to carry my lifeless body to a healing well. The choice to bless Ku with the gift of flight. Twice,” Iris rebuts, looking levelly at Shumi.

“It’s not always a grand sacrifice that makes a hero. Sometimes, it’s just a moment of doing what is right despite the odds.”

And Shumi, still looking at the sky, takes another moment to absorb what was just said. It seems to have an effect as her eyes begin to lose their unfocused glaze. Her flame swells slightly, just slightly, too.

Then she says, "Hey, mind if I swim over to your side? Or is that too early?"

Iris squints curiously at her.  
  
“Do you have a particular reason to? I’m not sure how much I’d like to end up like the other inhabitants of this spring.”

Shumi then looks at Iris and directs an arched eyebrow his way. She says nothing, keeping this expression.

“... sure,” Iris answers meekly.

Wordlessly, the spirit crosses the water. After passing by the sleeping Moki, she then settles on the bench with a spirit-sized gap between herself and Iris.

"Sitting next to someone is sometimes better than sitting across from someone," Shumi simply says. "And you, quite frankly, need to lighten up. That, and you need some company. That will be my duty in being a hero. As of this moment."

Iris smiles at that. A genuine one. He gazes outwards from the spring.

“Interesting conclusion to draw from what I said. Only time will tell whether or not it’s helpful. Though, perhaps ‘hero’ is a mantle too vague to strive for. Perhaps it’s better to just be … helpful.”

"Or how about 'friend?'" Shumi posits, following Iris' gaze. "And I swear by the name of all Spirit Trees, if you haven't made a friend -- a good one -- in the two months you've been here so far, you're going to have to suffer the wrath of my friendship."

“I’ll do my best,” Iris neutrally agrees.

Another moment passes. They can hear the clamour of the crowds in the distance over the rippling of the water in their spring. Snow continues to fall. The sleeping Moki smack their lips.

"I think he would have liked us to meet, Iris," Shumi then says. "Something just tells me that this is so. But what do you think?"

“I think Ori would be happy so long as Niwen is happy. And Nibel.”

Shumi pauses.

"What about you? Are _you_ happy?"

Iris glances at the Moki, then around at the pink surroundings of the Pools. Shumi does, too.

“Yes, I am.”

"Then it'll be my job to keep it that way, as well as for others."


End file.
